by J. B. Craig
“One thing we have plenty of is guns and ammo at the FEMA camp. I’m writing in my report that this thing blew up with the Truck, but it only has a few dings, and my armorer/driver says that it’s serviceable. I also included a spare barrel on the table over there. You guys are going to need it more than we will. The .240 on top of my truck is my preferred weapon. Not as much punch, but a higher fire rate, and more than only 100 rounds per box!”
Greg, who would have blown Tony right now – if he was Navy – gave him a 3-slap ‘bro-hug’. “Sergeant, this is going to really help. I’m not putting it in the tower, though, after what we learned today.” With the range on this puppy, I’m probably going to put it on a balcony of the Mansion over there, and I’ll be able to defend from a distance, as well as cover a retreat better than today’s half-assed plan.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Greg. You guys lost 3, and they lost over 40. That’s pretty in-credi-fucking-bull! You saved a lot of lives today with your things that go Boom!”
Greg reflected on that, but still shed a tear for 2 lost friends, and the trooper who died defending the community.
“Hey brother,” said Tony. “You can still come back to base with us. But I already heard tht asking that is like pissing in the wind. That said, those of us on this detail are only bringing back one M4 and a load-out of ammo, with the truck. Minimal rations and water will get us back, as long as we practice the 2 means 1, and 1 means none’ philosophy on rations, and fuel. Help yourself to anything else we leave on the truck for you. Speaking of which, Private Jones and I are going to rotate out our guys on watch at the truck. This is goodbye. We’re Oscar Mike at dawn. Be well, and may we meet again, brother!”
Again, tears welled up in Greg’s eyes, not just for the gift of supplies, but for the brotherhood soon to be lost. All he could get out around the emotion was “Hooo-ahhh, brother!”
As Tony and Private Jones ‘hugged it out’ with others around the community center, Greg moseyed over to the table with Mike, Annie and Jennifer huddled in a corner, in some sort of disagreement. They saw him approach, and Jen smiled, while Mike looked angry, but not as angry as Greg might expect.
“Hey Greg, Join us.” Came from Mike, surprisingly. Dinner that night was yellow perch stuffed with the crab meat. There was a salad of the ever-present Kudzu, leaf lettuce and baby spinach, with green onions mixed up with a vinaigrette. One of the condiments that the kitchen crew had plenty of were salad dressings. Between the unopened store-bought ones around the community and non-perishable things like vinegar and oil, they had many months’ worth, thanks to the salvage team. The salad vegetables didn’t last longer than the week after the lights went out, so the first salad of the season was a nice treat. Before today, the peninsula only had Kudzu, sprouts, the occasional small serving of vegetables from cans, and vitamins (also in large supply in a retirement community). After the day’s adventure, everyone had a hearty appetite
Greg joined them, gave Annie a peck on the head, and shook Mike’s hand. “Without those M-4’s today, we would have lost a lot more of us, if not all of us. Thank you, Mike.”
Jennifer replied with “That’s why he’s going to leave his and the other troopers guns, aren’t you, Mike?” She looked to her husband.
“Yeah, Greg. They both got destroyed or looted in the attack, I’m not sure – at least that’s what my report will say. The road out was already cleared of most threats, so I suspect we’ll get back safely with the 240 on the Deuce and a half and the soldiers rifles and side-arms. We’ll clearly keep our own side arms, but we did happen to use all but a full magazine of our ammunition in addition to one in the pipe. The rest of the ammo that we, um, officially ‘used’ is over there in that ammo can. It’s .40 caliber, and I remember that you have a one of those, so use them wisely. Also, the gear from my deputy is piled over there. He won’t be needing it any longer.”
“Mike, that’s a lot. Thank you so much, man.” Greg was again overwhelmed with the generosity he saw today. I’m also leaving 2 of our 2-way radios. I know you have a set of 4 walkies, but these are police band, and you can monitor them for any news that reaches this far. You won’t get a good signal from Dahlgren, but if any friendlies are in the area, I’ll let them know of this outpost, and they’ll announce themselves, and come bearing gifts, if possible. The batteries are also rechargeable. I should go gather up my guys, and those that are going back with us and make sure we have a plan for the morning. I’ll take Annie home, and leave you and Jennifer to say goodbye.” Mike rose and shook Greg’s hand again. “You did a hell of a job saving my girls today. You’re a good man. I’m sorry that we got off to such an ugly start. With a girl like Jen, it’s hard not to be jealous.” He touched her shoulder and walked away to be in charge again.”
Jennifer and Greg were alone at the table, and Greg knew that his tears for the day were not done. “Jennifer, I’m so glad for you to have your husband back. I hope to have my family with me someday soon. Go be happy. Thanks for the mammaries!” He laughed at their old joke. Everyone went back to their places for a good night’s sleep, except for those on watch.
Jennifer
When Jennifer and Mike got back to their house, Mike took some time to play with Annie, and get her tired out before bedtime. Jennifer looked across at the light in Greg’s home. She saw him climb the ladder to the Osprey Nest and look around in his Mauser Scope. When his scope crossed the window she was watching from, he waved a sad, defeated smile.
Mike came up behind her and hugged her. “He keeps watch like that every night?”
“He does it after his 12-hour day-shift. I swear, he’s in shepherd mode all the time. I think he sleeps about 4 hours per night, if that. I promise, Mike. He’s a good man, and he never put his hands on me like you’re worried about.”
Mike told Jennifer that they should go to bed, and they went to the bedroom they shared before the lights went out. Mike made noises like it would be good to get some loving tonight, but Jennifer told him that with the deaths today, and killing her first man, the last thing on her mind was having sex. Mike huffed and puffed but went to bed without making an issue out of it.
The next morning, many of the citizens of the peninsula, as well as those from Dahlgren met outside the mined lane. All 3 of the ladies that Gunny rescued from their community opted to go to Dahlgren.
Greg spun Annie around, and then handed the giggling toddler off to Este, who threw her high while using his Shrek voice to entertain her. This was her new favorite game.
When Greg hugged Jennifer, she confided to him, “I don’t think this FEMA camp is a good idea, but Mike says they have supplies, and after yesterday, I like the idea of a very secure facility. I’m going to miss you more than you’ll ever know, and you know I love you in our own weird way. She could not keep talking, so she just grabbed him in a hug that expressed her emotion and kissed him right on the lips in front of everyone. There was no tongue action, but still, Greg felt a little stirring. This would likely be his last sight of Jennifer, and what a sight she was!”
“You’re doing the right thing, Jen. Love you too. I’ll miss you and Annie more than you’ll ever know. Stay armed, stay safe and take care of the princess. If the shit hits the fan again, we now have radios. Keep checking, and if in range, I’ll bring a QRF to get you, and whoever is with you.” Quick Reaction Forces, or QRF’s are just groups of warriors on “stand by”, ready to quickly react with force to whatever the problem is.
Greg had kind words, hugs, and handshakes with those few of the community who were leaving. Those with medical conditions and a lot of the single moms with kids all took up Mikes offer of the FEMA Camp. Ethyl’s kitchen team would be cut in half, but she was not going to leave her home. The fire department team, now fully trained sheepdogs and other retired couples in relatively good health decided to stay. His Sheepdogs didn’t lose a single defender, other than those lost yesterday in the battle. A few of the younger retirees who were on other teams wanted to b
e cross-trained to join the ‘dogs. They saw from the defense of the Alamo that knowing how to shoot would be required to survive, even if their every-day job wasn’t on the security team.
The security forces were now much better armed after scavenging the biker’s weapons, and the gifts from the soldiers and the police. By the time the group heading to FEMA left, every one of the original sheepdogs had at least one semi-automatic weapon to carry. Greg’s error of not having his Mauser with him meant fewer dead guys earlier. From now on, every guard would carry their semi-auto AR-15’s, or 3-round burst M-4’s with them all day, and into bed, if necessary. They each also had 4 full magazines, and a decent sized pile of spare .556 for them.
The group that left for Dahlgren FEMA checked in until they got out of the range of the radios. They got to the main road, Route 3, headed towards 301, the highway to Dahlgren. Jennifer kept watch, with her pistol, and the road to Dahlgren was indeed clear.
Upon arrival at Dahlgren, Jennifer and the rest of the civilians were checked in, and then driven to the “family area” of the base. This area was just a few Quonset huts, lined with bunk beds. Family units would hang up blankets for some semblance of privacy, but there was never any quiet. Family disputes, people playing cards, and other conversations filled the huts with noise. Despite Mike’s constant attempts at intimacy, there was never an opportunity, or, at least, Jennifer didn’t feel that the opportunities were right.
The Mansion
With the number of residents down to 27, Greg had a proposal for the next meeting. One week after the group left for the FEMA camp at Dahlgren, Greg pitched it at the community center.
“Folks, Thanks for coming together. And thank you for staying here with me. It’s an honor to be in the community with you.” He started his pitch. “What I remember most about the battle was the long run down the main road to our circle. Disengaging from the berm needs to be a smarter, better covered route, where we don’t have to slog through the drainage ditch.” At that, several heads nodded. That terrified slog through a quarter mile of ditch was still giving some of them nightmares.
“Our ‘Alamo Defense’ is going to be a lot easier if everyone is working is in one place.” Greg paused for a minute to let this sink in. “I think we should move into the Rock Mansion. It’s not occupied, and those of us that have scavenged it know that it’s built for survival without electricity, since it was built in the late 1700’s. It seems to me that it has enough room for everyone, as long as we don’t need too much space.”
The thought of leaving their homes and supplies created some conversation. Greg could tell that everyone was not up for his idea.
“Look, I’m not going to make anyone do anything. I’m just going to tell you what I’m going to do, and why. Here’s my thinking:
“First, the mansion is set up for year-round living without electricity. They have breezeways for the summer heat, and fireplaces everywhere for the winter. Winter will be here eventually and trying to heat every house is much less efficient than heating one house. Body heat also helps.”
“Next, it’s a lot closer to the defensive berm, and we could do the same sort of defense that we did on the circle, without everyone on duty running the long way with no cover. It has windows all around, but couldn’t be flanked, as its right on the longest peninsula in the harbor.
“Third, there are enough bedrooms, or at least rooms, that all family units could have privacy. There’s also a kitchen that was built for cooking with firewood. We WILL run out of propane. Not this week, but this month. We need to think about heating water, and cooking everything else. Yes, we can salvage more, and having 3 working bikes help, but we can’t really drag a wagon full of propane on the back of any of those bikes.”
“Finally, with the loss of many of our friends, it’s fewer and farther-between each inhabited house. We can be ambushed at night, since we don’t have any night-vision. Being close to one another in a problem will exponentially increase the value of individual weapons, especially if we have pre-determined fields of fire. Including hidden kill zones, rigged up with my boom-toys.”
“Whether or not you agree, I’ll be moving in, and setting up the .50 on the balcony, as I think it’s the best defensive position to back up the berm, and it was given to me as a present.” Greg smiled, as he knew it was a community toy, but hoped they’d give him some slack. “Are there any objections to my moving, whether or not you are coming yourselves?”
No hands went up, so Greg was set to move into one of the nicer rooms of the mansion, namely, that one with the balcony and Ma Deuce!
Ok then. I’ll not ask the rest of you if you’re behind the rest of my plan. Just eat well tonight, I hear crab is on the menu again!” This got groans from most of the crowd. “Let’s talk about it next week.”
Greg saw Manuel and Gunny huddled into a corner, with the other Hondurans listening in and nodding. Luis was holding Marcy’s hand. She was one of the women whose husband went to work in DC and never came home. It appeared that some relationships were forming, despite marital status. Greg just smiled at them, remembering the old song about ‘If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with’. He smiled at Luis and gave a smile to Marcy – who nodded a sad, understanding smile back at him.
Gunny and Manuel declared that they would be moving into the mansion, and only needing one room. The crowd just smiled.
Finally, Angel stood up, and stated to the crowd, “Jefe, we move in tomorrow. You tell us your room, and we move in around you. Bueno idea, amigo!” Gunny nodded her appreciation and sign-off, so now both of Greg’s NCO’s would be no more than a few rooms or bunks away. The top floor of the Rock Mansion was a bunk-room that was built like a series of berths on a sailing ship, as it was indeed crafted by ship-builders who came from England, and slaves in later years. The captain’s room, unknown to Greg, was the room with the balcony, as would be guessed.
Greg nodded his thanks, but told the rest of the community, “no need to rush your decisions, folks. The Mansion could just be the command center of the security team, but we’ll be there to defend any of you, regardless of circumstance.
By the end of the week, all of the full-time security team were moved into decent rooms of the mansion, except Bill, who wanted to stay at home. Greg made it clear that if families came, the single soldiers would have to move upstairs, and there was no push-back. This was because Esteban, who was mostly healed by this time, took 2 bunks, after cutting the divider wall between them and shifting the mattresses to fit his bulk. He declared that he would be dragging any of them up, if they needed to be relocated, but did enjoy the empty space to himself for now. Greg felt better knowing that Este had the bunk, or bunks, by the window facing the tree barrier, and he never left his .308 more than 2 feet from him. He set up a sniping perch by dragging a table to the window, and a well-built chair to it. Even when off shift, Este often covered the road and mine-path from this perch. He was not unaffected by the battle, and it seemed to Greg that he was determined to not be shot again, if he could avoid it. His sniping skills were clearly the best of the group, now that the group had a little bit of ammunition to practice a little more. The government came through for them on ammo!
The gate-facing balcony was dubbed “The Eagle’s Nest”. It was set up on the corner of the mansion porch, above the main entrance, and was fortified with 2 sheets of thick plywood, one on each side making a U with the window access behind. The team pulled up about 50 gallons of sand from the beach and hauled it up a rope to be poured between the 2 the plywood frames. Ma Deuce, the .50 caliber machine gun, was emplaced up there, with someone trained on her ready to punch holes through everything less than an armored vehicle at the 150 yards that it was to the breach in the berm. Greg would rotate the ‘dogs through that perch, because it was a very cushy “gig”. Those here would be on the balcony, with a rigged rain-cover, and sitting in a comfortable firing position almost as comfortable as Este’s perch.
With Samuel’s backup fish provider, Carlos, killed in the battle, it turned out that Greg was the most experienced fly and spin-fisherman on the peninsula. The fishing team was reconstituted, at the expense of the security team. Greg and Sam now spent their days doing things that they WISHED they could spend their days doing before the lights went out – fishing and crabbing. Greg insisted they move to night patrol, too, with only a few hours in between for sleep. There were gaps in the guard station schedule, and Greg compensated for that by pushing a scout farther out, with the police radio. The other one was in the Eagles nest, with over watch, who also had a walkie. Greg kept a walkie on the boat, with Gunny and Angel having the others. Luis learned quickly how to use a spinning rod and was enlisted to fish with Sam when Greg had other duties. Protein was going to be at a premium as the store-bought food was quickly running out.
Greg and Sam went out about 2 hours from high tide – at “zero-dark-thirty”, about 2 hours before sunrise. Greg had the opportunity to walk the guard posts, have some fun dropping Princess Bride quotes with Este, and otherwise keep himself busy. Without Jennifer and Annie there, he had plenty of spare time to create a cohesive unit bonded by shared experiences.
